Miekie is the pen name of Marietjie Uys, a South African author and artist. Miekie believes in living life creatively and has started the A Pretty Talent blog to share ideas about living life as creatively as possible, covering all sorts of crafts and hobbies. A Pretty Tourist is a blog in which Miekie shares her experiences as lifelong traveler. In Bybel Legkaart she shares her Christian convictions. In A Pretty Author, we finally get to read her poetry, short stories and other musings.

Tuesday, 7 November 2017

I behold the beauty that is you;
a drop of rain caught on the leaf of a geranium.
I touch the velvet of your skin, the gentle hair
covering the strength of your male hood.
I breathe the scent of your body;
the awakening of dawn on a clear spring day.
I listen to the rhythm of your breathing
filling the room with the closeness of you.
Softly my tongue touches your name
as I whisper it to the still night air;
the sound of it a million waterfalls
crystallizing into eternity.

The word spoken to form the substance that is you,
the most precious sound ever to have left God's mouth.

Sunday, 5 November 2017

For believing in love
I curse you
for trusting in hope
I curse you
for having faith in good
I curse you

No more

pain
heartache
rejection
aversion
disapproval

No more

I am now officially closed
I am a door
I am a lock
throw away the key
let no-one enter
let no-one eat of the goodness of my fruit
let them hunger outside
let them tear at each other
let them devour one another

No more

I am through playing this game
two hides for one seek
two rejects for one accept

Friday, 3 November 2017

There are some authors who can simply sweep you away and transport you to different times, places and the company of familiar strangers. I had just finished reading another Daleen Mathhee book when I wrote this poem.

Alternate reality(To Dalene and all other great authors)
In the aftermath of our encounter
I find my existence to have shifted
to a world that you’ve created
when you offered me a lift along your way.

We were hampered by the awkwardness
of the newly introduced inside the opened door,
I, pass bearer to your destination, entering uncertainly
into a foreign land filled with strange faces

And then the tide carried me away enchanted,
engrossed and unable to disentangle myself
from this life parallel to my own, where I
shift status from immigrant to citizen

And with the last chapter completed, the book lies closed,
‘though I am yet not in the now, but live where you were then ...

Tuesday, 17 October 2017

Today's blog is a poem I wrote with the intention of turning it into a song, though I have yet to write a melody for it. The difference between a song and a poem is in the structure, especially when you have a chorus that repeats, although most (any?) poems could potentially be converted to songs.

Fulfilled by God

I’ve been running on empty for too long
Lord, hear the hollow reverb of my song
All You’ve ever given is now gone,
I am quite spent and all alone

Monday, 9 October 2017

When darkness surroundedand threatened to envelop you,My love to you aboundedwith a heartache that I felt too.You searched for me in anguish,shouting at my inability to hear,with your burden not relinquished,never knowing I was near.You clung tightly to your trouble,attempting to soften its impact,but it only seemed to double,with your faltering in faith and fact.It is time to loosen and let gothose things that dragged you downThese are not seeds by your life sownCome, swap your thorns for a crown.

Saturday, 7 October 2017

Blessing is the name you wear,and it is one chosen with care,for you are a sister and a friend,whose love endures until the end.Blessings are what you bestowon all of whom you get to know.Blessings are your natural adornment,of which you have a rich assortment.Blessing, with your painful past,unlike the mould from which you’re cast,how did you survive the painwithout a lifelong tear or stain?Blessing, sister, child of God,you are your Father’s living Ephod,a sign by which all of man can seethat God triumphs in you and me.

Thursday, 5 October 2017

I was introduced to a would-be love interest by some friends. We were two widely diverse people with different interests, values and ideas in life and it baffles me to this day that they could ever have imagined that even a friendship could spring from this meeting. Nonetheless, I decided to make the most of the introduction and used it to write a modern fairy tale in the form of a poem. The man's surname being Prince, it seemed the ideal thing to do.

A modern fairy tale

Jane Austen could not have written a more perverse injustice,than the story of a love-struck man, thwarted by female prejudice.Such was the tale of the prince and his dame as they were introduced.Her opinionated airs gave him never a gap, even though he was enthused.But the prince proved persistent, despite her abuseand ere long her excuses became a mere ruse,which he easily saw through and gallantly thwarted,so that in no time at all, she had them all but aborted.The prince and his dame,with love overcame,were soon bathed in blissful laughterand the end of this tale,as many grown stale,was that they lived happily ever after.

Monday, 2 October 2017

I have started my slow descent into madness,and on the whole, I must say,I find the whole thing quite enjoyable.One could perhaps even say it was fun,if one were so inclined.Why should these words fill you with angst?They are not reason for concern!Now, if I were depressed, or suicidal,there would be a reason for your worry.But, as I am quite jolly at the undertaking,I think celebrations are in order, don’t you?Why would you reckon my reasoning is folly?After all, is it not structurally the same as jolly?Weep not, I say!Waste not a tear and wipe your frown away.I am in a happy place,and who else can say the same?What is madness anyway?Is it to toil and strugglefrom nine to five in misery?Does not this descent hold more adventurethan a day’s slavery at earning money,which you will only find excuse to give away?Au Revoir, I’m off and leaving sanityto you who see its comforts.As for me, my wild adventure now beginsas I break with all conventions.

Sunday, 1 October 2017

My soul to you tonight I bared
My heart with you tonight I shared
All you could do was laugh and joke
But in your laughter my heart broke

Within me lives the memory
of me a wee child on your knee
Back then a word from me was precious
You tended all my childhood wishes

Now somehow you have turned away
You no longer hear the words I say
You no longer seem to understand
I would still so like to hold your hand
and sit upon your lap once more
and be the child whom you adore.

An original poem by Miekie (Marietjie Uys).

'n Oorspronklike gedig deur Miekie (Marietjie Uys).
Marietjie Uys (Miekie) is a published author. You can buy my books here:
You can purchase Designs By Miekie 1 here.
Jy kan Kom Ons Teken en Verf Tuinstories hier koop.
Jy kan Kom Ons Kleur Tuinstories In hier koop.
Jy kan Tuinstories hier koop.
You can follow Miekie's daily Bible Study blog, Bybel Legkaart, here in English & Afrikaans.
You may prefer to follow the traveling blog, A Pretty Tourist.
For more crafty ideas and great product reviews, visit A Pretty Talent on Facebook.
If you are in a literary mood, follow Miekie's musings, stories and poetry on A Pretty Author - Miekie.
Remember to keep nurturing your TALENT for making life PRETTY.
You can subscribe to any of these blogs and receive regular updates by email. Simply register your email address at the top of the applicable blog.

Saturday, 30 September 2017

We live life to our merry detriment
this is our entire predicament.
We want what we shouldn’t
and do what we oughtn’t
giving little thought to consequences
and caring not about the hindrances
we lay in the path for others
who look up to us as older brothers
who should know better, but care not
that the things we sow is only rot
without any sense of decency
or the things that really ought to be.
We search for joy and jubilee
unencumbered by the misery
we leave in our wake as we tread on
over the heads of another man’s son.
What is it to us if they couldn’t keep up?
We can hardly be blamed for their handicap.
We joyfully dance and sing to a tune
carried to us from over a dune
happy and blissfully unaware,
we dance and we sing without a care
that the flute-player hails from Hameln
and that we’re on our way to destruction.
We live life to our merry detriment
this is our entire predicament.